


Amplified

by GalaxyAqua



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 13:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14045625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyAqua/pseuds/GalaxyAqua
Summary: She will be louder than the demons buried inside Miu’s golden heart, louder than the voices that tell her she isn’t good enough and that everybody leaves in the end — Angie will be so, so loud, she will scare away the sadness and she will love and love and love Miu until the shadows of her past are nothing but tricks of light.





	Amplified

**Author's Note:**

> just a head's up, there's an implication of miu being a victim of past abuse but none of it is described in detail

Her vow to Miu is that she will love her unabashedly loudly, until her love washes all the bad memories away.

Yes, Angie will be so loud that Miu won’t be able to deny it.

So loud that Miu will know it as fact.

So loud that Miu will be so engulfed in love that she won’t be scared of being vulnerable anymore. Of being too soft in a razor sharp world. Of being ridiculed, abandoned, used, by the very people she trusts the most.   

Angie will hold her through her terrors, loving so loud she’ll drown out every time Miu’s been discarded or hurt or forced to believe that sex and love are the same thing because they're not.

Miu is learning. She will learn.

Angie will love her loud enough, for all the people who lied to her and left her, to cower — to tremble in their sad, sorry homes without hope of getting their dirty claws on Miu again. To quake under Angie’s heel, because they had the world in their hands and they mistreated it. Tried to ruin it, abuse it, wreck a girl who just wanted desperately to be _loved_ by somebody.

And Angie will make them suffer for what they did. She’ll love Miu with the wrath of a God. She will love her like nobody ever has before, banish every reminder of their fingerprints on Miu’s skin — and she will build her a shelter with her heart, day by day, if that’s what it takes.

She will be louder than the demons buried inside Miu’s golden heart, louder than the voices that tell her she isn’t good enough and that everybody leaves in the end — Angie will be so, so loud, she will scare away the sadness and she will love and love and love Miu until the shadows of her past are nothing but tricks of light.

She’ll watch her silly cartoons with her even though she’s seen them a million times and she’ll feed her popcorn, and it’ll get everywhere, and she’ll have nowhere to sit but in Miu’s lap. Infected by her joyous laughter, she’ll be lured into the night to listen to the same speeches about friendship that eventually leave Miu in tears, and Angie will console her with shaky giggles as she tries not to be touched by the stories unfolding onscreen.

She’ll buy her bundles of flowers and Miu will complain about how useless they are while her cheeks are flushed and the flowers are clutched tight to her chest. She won’t let Angie take the flowers back even if she tries, and goodness, she tries, because it’s hilarious to see what Miu will do to protect the clusters of plants while yelling vehemently that they’re ugly and she hates them.

She’ll bury her in stuffed animals because she knows it secretly makes Miu happy, and because the inventor looks far less threatening when she’s surrounded by little bears and bunnies, guarded by her fluffy animal army.

She’ll make her bubble baths filled with flowers and rose-scented water, surrounded by the light of a dozen candles which dance in the ripples as Miu reaches out to her, to pull her in.

Angie always laughs and follows her lead because she can’t resist the way Miu yelps when she’s splashed with tides of bubbles, and the way her kisses taste like soap afterwards — “ _Fuckin’ nasty,”_ Miu will say, before cupping her cheeks and kissing her again.

God, and she loves to kiss Miu, loves the way their lips collide. Loves the hunger that engulfs her, the nails that dig into her scalp as they kiss until the water grows cold. As they kiss until Miu is struck by a bolt of inspiration and leaps out of the tub with a, “shit, that’s a genius idea, gotta hammer it down before it pulls the fuck out,” and Angie trails after her with a big fluffy towel and tells her to put some darn clothes on first.

She doesn’t mention the crown of suds that Miu’s too focused to wash out, only clicks her tongue as she aggressively dries the water from Miu’s pretty head and Miu complains half-heartedly that she’s being too rough.

She’ll force Miu into a yukata at the very least, and once she’s clothed and dry, Angie will free her to let her inventions take over. The passion that ignites in her eyes is enough for Angie to fall in love with her all over again. Free and wild in her element, Miu can lose track of hours upon hours and it’s not uncommon that she’s tinkering far past their usual agreed upon bedtime.

Sometimes Angie will drag her into bed, but she usually leaves her be. Being so absorbed in her work that the whole world outside ceases to exist, well, Angie’s like that, too.

It’s how it is with two creative minds under one roof — despite their differences, they’re always victim to waves of inspiration and they’ll let the currents carry them; lest the dread of having no ideas whatsoever creeps back up to drown them and then it’ll be Miu who’s calling herself a failure at 5am, shoving her latest invention onto the floor with a resounding crash.

It’ll be Angie that wakes to find her at her wits’ end. Angie who pads over and tells her to take a break, even if she’s a hypocrite for saying so.

Still, she’ll hook her arms around Miu’s waist and haul her away from the metal scraps and crumpled blueprints, and she’ll fix her the best dessert of fruit and ice cream and chocolate syrup she can manage just to see Miu smile.

Miu will pick out the plumpest strawberries with a grimace, thrusting her fork at Angie while muttering, “I fuckin’ hate big strawberries,” as if it’s enough to convince Angie she isn’t giving them away because Angie loves the fruit or anything dumb like that.

Angie knows, though. She knows Miu is bad at expressing her emotions because she’s always so caught up in being smart enough, attractive enough, and funny enough to be good enough for other people, but Angie likes everything about Miu so it doesn’t matter.

“Nyahaha, Miu’s so cute,” she giggles, dragging the strawberry off the fork and popping it into her mouth. Miu looks satisfied by the reaction, but quickly covers it up by shoving a spoon of ice-cream into her mouth and narrowing her eyes.

“O-of fuckin’ course I am! Damn, bitch, what are we? Statin’ facts?”

“Ooh, are we? Are we?” Angie asks excitedly. “Say, then do you want to know how much pressure is in the human heart? It’s enough to squirt blood a whole—”

“Motherfucker—! Stop, Ang, please, I’m eating,” Miu squirms in her seat, looking entirely like she’s trying not to laugh. “What the actual fuck, babe? Why?”

“Cause it’s fun! Like fun facts!” Angie says, leaning forward against the table. “How about this one, then? Did you know that a head can remain conscious for a short period even after its been—”

“Angie, no!” Miu screams, covering her ears. “I don’t wanna know!”  

“Haha, aww, you are such a super scaredy cat—!” Angie squeals as Miu flicks a spoon of ice cream at her, the cold sensation tingling on her skin. “Miu! That’s rude! How could you?”

“S-serves you right for makin’ fun of me!”

“But you really are too cute, Angie can’t help it,” she says, tone sweet.

“Fuck you.” Miu whines, face red.

“Another time, darling, you’re tired and you need to rest.” Angie pats her on the shoulder, swaying gently from side to side. “But God tells Angie that Miu is going to keep working after this anyway, isn’t she? Hm? Hmm?”

“Yeah, probably,” she admits, twisting the fork and spoon in her hands. “The world ain’t waitin’ for me, Ang, I gotta put my genius brain to use, ya feel? Guess I can’t blame you for missin’ my slammin’ bod, but I’m science’s girl tonight, sweetheart.”

Angie laughs and rolls her eyes. “Aah, you’re lucky you’re so talented, because Angie really doesn’t like sharing. Buuut, will Miu rest a little when she’s done, at least?”

“Sure,” she agrees easily, setting her bowl and silverware aside. Her hands, now free, latch onto a lock of hair which she twirls around her finger. “And maybe you can help decorate it. Y-you know… if you want.”

“Pink?” Angie asks knowingly.

A grin splits across Miu’s face. “Fuck yeah!”

With a renewed swing in her step, she slips back into work mode and Angie watches her eyes light up like a child at an amusement park as an idea hits her. She starts muttering to herself, plunging into her workspace, yanking spare parts from draws, and then pulling her discarded invention back onto the table for another attempt.

Angie smiles, kisses her on the cheek, and leaves her to it.

 

* * *

 

Since they’re always creating — Miu’s process of abstract to life and Angie’s process of life to abstract — the rest periods don’t last long, but every second they spend together is one Angie cherishes immensely.

She drinks in the feeling of being in Miu’s presence as much as she can, whenever she can, and that’s why snuggling up to her feels so much like coming home.

Their nights together are so very sacred in that way. She can lie in Miu’s arms until the sun rises the next day, and just listen to her speak.

It’s how she’s come to read Miu so well, digging deep beneath the bravado and embracing the trembling soul beneath.

“And I’m tellin’ ya, the board says I can only have the funding if I make the rest of my inventions butt-ugly and grey like their stupid company, so I just said ‘fuck you’ and left,” Miu explains, recounting her day as she traces circles on Angie’s back. “Cramping on my brand, those assholes.”

“They don’t deserve you.” Angie murmurs.

“Damn right they don’t!”

“You’re better than them anyway.”

“Sure am,” her voice cracks, just a tiny bit. Then the rest of her follows. “Fuck, Angie, why don’t they like me? Am I destined to be a failure? Is there somethin’ I’m doing wrong?”

“God has better plans for you,” Angie reassures her. “Miu doesn’t need those guys. And Miu certainly shouldn't have to change anything to please them.”

“Ugh, I know that, it’s just — it’s just that I work so hard, but nothing ever seems to be good enough. Was I a one-hit wonder? Make some magical fuckin’ contacts and then vanish off the face of the earth to the surprise of literally no-one? Is that my legacy?”

“Miu’s made many more wonderful things. If they have half a brain, they’d be able to see that.” Angie bops her on the nose. “Don’t fret, love! You’re gonna show ‘em who’s boss, pound them straight into the dust! You’ll prove them wrong, baby, I know you will.”

“God, Angie,” Miu grabs her by the cheeks and peppers little kisses all over her face, making her giggle. “Bless you so fuckin’ much.”

“Yaah! That tickles, Miu!” She exclaims, pounding her weak fists against Miu’s shoulders.

“Deal with it.” Miu cackles, pressing a loud and exaggerated kiss to her forehead. “I can’t help it, you’re just so damn cute.”

Embarrassed to hear her own sentiments echoed back to her, Angie decides to back up and headbutt Miu in the chest but the inventor only starts laughing harder.

 

* * *

 

When the local gallery calls and commissions a collection for their upcoming exhibition themed ‘raw, unrestrained beauty’, there’s not a doubt in Angie’s mind what her subject will be.

“Why me, though?” Miu asks. “You’re always such a happy chappy, don’t you find beauty in like, fuckin’ everything?”

“But Miu is Angie’s favourite beauty,” she tells her, often enough that Miu sometimes forgets to agree and she blushes a pink prettier than any of the paints Angie owns, but Angie will stay up until dawn steals the night away to capture these moments because she is an artist and her muse is her love.

The outline of Miu’s silhouette is familiar to her now, and she notices it in shadow whenever Miu unlocks the studio to check on her.

“Get some air, dumbass. If you die in here, it’ll be your own damn fault,” she’ll say, because Miu’s heart is kind even if her words don’t always allow for it.

“Miu will give Angie mouth-to-mouth, won’t she?” It’s a playful suggestion, spoken through the paintbrush between her teeth, and she must look ridiculous because Miu snorts.

“To get you to shut up, maybe,” She says, but her tone is fond. “Take that thing outta your mouth.”

Angie giggles, rocking a little on her stool. “Mm, no, God says you have to make me.”

“Being a brat, aren’t you? C’mere,” Miu strides in and locks an arm around Angie’s hips, hoisting her into the air and tugging at the brush with the other. “What are you doing? Are you a dog?” Miu laughs. “Let go!”

After a brief struggle — as if Angie’s gonna let her win that easily — Miu yanks the paintbrush out of her mouth and throws it into the sink. Her hand comes back up to swipe a stray splotch of paint off of Angie’s chin and she swings Angie over her shoulder like she weighs nothing.

“Move out, bitches,” she announces. Angie kicks her legs and tries to break free, but it’s no use.

Her painting is abandoned as Miu carries her into their room. Heaven knows what Miu is planning to do, but Angie finds it’s always much easier to take control once she’s on solid ground, so she lets Miu hold her tightly until then.

“Angie didn’t finish her painting, you know. Does Miu seek divine punishment? Do you want to be punished?”

“You haven’t slept or eaten in two days. Your masterpiece can fuckin’ wait,” she says, setting her down onto the bed.

Fine, Angie thinks. She’ll make a masterpiece out of Miu this way, instead.

She will paint her with her lips in the canvas of their sheets, draw on her skin with her teeth, and pin her to the walls like a work of art, framed by the shallow crook of her arms.

“Hey hey, does Miu know that Angie loves her?” She asks softly, and they’re so close that their lashes almost meet. Her palms wander, shaping the curves of Miu’s body like clay — gently, gently, kneading and working until Miu is a shuddering mess, perfectly pliable under the heat of her hands.

“F-fuck,” Miu writhes, and there’s a whimper on her tongue. “ _Fuck_ , Angie, you don’t have to keep sayin’ that.”

“No, no, Angie does. Because I do, I do love Miu. And Miu loves Angie, too,” the words leave her sounding smug, but her tummy swirls like warm tea and honey.  

“Kh…! So what?! You sayin’ it all the time… d-doesn’t it make it lose its meaning? Won’t you get sick of it? S-sick of me…?”

“Huh? You think? Really, really, really? But what if Angie loves Miu so much that even if she kept saying it, it would never be enough?” She slips a steady knee between her thighs and Miu gasps. “Don’t you understand, love?”

Flustered, Miu suddenly loses balance and they tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Angie laughs as the blood rushes to Miu’s face, and she can’t even pick herself off the artist, opting to hide her burning face behind a curtain of her beautiful hair instead, head resting on Angie’s shoulder.

“I-if you wanted to have your way with me, you should’ve just said so… but you need to rest up, baby,” Miu murmurs into her neck. “… just promise you won’t change your mind about all this? You won’t wake up one day and… and want to abandon me?”

“It’s a promise.” Angie wraps her arms around her as best she can, fingers drumming on Miu’s back.

“A-and… even if we can’t have children, you won’t leave? What if some guy comes along and he’s — he’s better for you than I am—”

“No worries, no worries.” Angie kisses her on top of her head. “Miu, you’re the only one I want, and that’s never gonna change.”  

“So… you’ll… stay with me forever? E-even though I’m clingy, and… greedy… and have a whole bunch of crazy turn-ons…”

Angie reaches for her cheeks, holding Miu’s soft face in her palms, and smiling up at her. “Of course, darling. You have God’s word that Angie will never leave. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

The tears Miu cries don’t dilute her feelings — she can’t stop what’s hurting her because she can’t change Miu’s history or protect her from the past but she can love her through it and she will.

“No more tears, honey, I love you lots and lots and lots,” she murmurs, ever sweet, ever tender. “Angie loves Miu more than anything else in the world.”

Miu doesn’t say it back, too proud perhaps, or too fearful now that if her love all spilled out at once, it’d be so overwhelming that it could be nothing but a dream. Angie understands. Love doesn’t always have to be spoken, it can be felt, too. All around.

“You’re such a goddamn cliché,” Miu says eventually, sounding out of breath despite the fact that she’d been breathing fine all along. “I-it freaks me out sometimes, y’know? That you can say this kind of embarrassing stuff without thinking… and so easily, like you — you could be saying it to everyone you meet and I wouldn’t even know it.”

“Angie wouldn't do that,” she replies, combing her fingers through Miu’s hair. “God may tell Angie to have enough love for all on earth, but Miu will always be the one Angie loves the most.”

“Ggh…! L-like I said, you’re fuckin’ embarrassing…!”

“Mhm, yep yep,” Angie agrees joyfully, expression shining. “Even so, you know, God feels no shame, and Angie doesn’t either!” She cups Miu’s cheek again, and her eyes are warm. “I will always be loving you loudly, my dear. That’s the divine truth.”

“You’re such a weirdo. Just one big sappy dummy,” Miu mutters. She can’t fight the smile that tugs at her lips. Or the hands that tug Angie close to hold her tight, tight, tight. “But I guess I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

 


End file.
